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On my honor: stitching together Valley’s scouting historyBy Andrew Sims

As I drove down thestreets of Valley, I begantaking mental notes of whatI saw and I felt. I wassomewhere that played alarge role in the lives ofgenerations.Looming over the small

roads, the dilapidated redbrick mill buildings standdefying their obvious signsof neglect with broken win-dows and spray-painted tat-toos of symbols and namesof local “artists.”When the last textile mill

closed its doors in 2008, thepeople of Valley tried, butcould never truly preparethemselves for what hadbeen their town’s lifebloodfor generations was nowgone.The mills are quiet now,

but what is crying out forappreciation and attentionare these deep, rich histo-ries of their towns, theirmill villages and the threadsof stories and memorieswoven together into some-thing beautiful that theyhope will grab the minds ofthose eager to listen.Be prepared. That’s the

Boy Scout motto.If you ask the right per-

son, you can find yourselfsitting submerged withinthe boxes of photos,Scouting magazines andnewspaper articles, eachwith their own characteris-tic and unmistakable his-toric and aged smell. Youare reading about the boysof 1953 who received theirEagle Scout badges or look-ing at the pictures from thePine Mountain Boy ScoutCamp where summer aftersummer young boysbecame young men whilefinding themselves in thedepths of the Georgiawilderness. As you do,you’ll undoubtedly beginrecreating those scenes of1961 summers at the campcanoeing along the lake.Growing up in Valley, youusually fell into one of threecategories: a kid waiting towork in the mill, someonealready working in the millor someone retired from alife of cloth and thread. Asa young boy it was yourresponsibility to learn theways of “learning manli-ness” as the Scout booksays. To learn to love andappreciate your family andyour role in your communi-ty. This is what the Scoutstaught boys.“Scouting was just what

we did as kids,” saysArnold Leak, Valley’smayor. “Everyone was aScout. If you weren’t aScout then you were miss-ing some major culturalinfluences.” Leak saidsome of his favorite memo-ries are of his times inScouts.From playing the game

“captain of the flag” downon the old golf course, tostudying for merit badgetests with his friends, BoyScouts were a big part of

his life. So big, in fact, thatone of his greatest regrets ishaving not completed hisEagle Scout badge. Hemissed out on one badge asa kid, his swimming meritbadge, which he was forcedto miss because he hadcome down with the flu.“Kids needed Scouting,”

says Roy Hill, who is a life-time resident of Valley andstill involved in theScouting program. “Youwere left out if you weren’ta Scout with all your bud-dies.” Hill, who left theScouts when he was 16 togo to work in the mills, alsoregrets not finishing andearning his Eagle Scoutbadge.

Hill now spendshis time with the scouts col-lecting old flags that hethen gives to Paul Crowderof Troop 9 for him and hisscouts to ceremoniouslydecommission.

Unraveling the HistoryThe records for Scouting

in Valley, many of whichare tucked away inside theCobb Memorial Archives,only go back as far as 1923,but it is believed that theGeorge H. Lanier Councilof Boy Scouting goes backas early as 1910.From the origination of

the council until afterWorld War II, the Scoutingarea included Troup,Harris, Heard andMeriweather Counties inGeorgia and Chambers andRandolph in Alabama.In 1945, the council

divided into the George H.Lanier Council and includ-ed only Chambers andRandolph Counties inAlabama and a part ofTroup County, Ga. Manysaid the division actuallyworked to bring theScouting program in Valleyand surrounding areas clos-er together.Suzanne Langford, who

grew up in Langdale, fond-ly recalls her memorieswith the Boy Scouts backthen.“As a little girl, April

spring days would find meoutside the back of mygrandmother’s house andand out in the Langdalemeadow, where City Hall isnow,” she says. “The boyshad their Camporee outthere every year, and Iwould watch the boys fromShawmut, Fairfax andLangdale tie their differentflags to the long sticks theScout masters had cut.”One of her fondest mem-

ories was watching theScouts from a perch up onthe hill over the ball field.“On one of the best days

I can remember,” Langfordsays, “we girls had gottentired of sittin’ and watchingthose boys, and they startedwanting someone to ‘volun-teer’ to go down there andtalk with the boys. Since Iwas the youngest at 10, Iwas the perfect fit for thejob, although I don’t everremember raising my hand.One of my friends then

dared me to go down to themeadow and just walkthrough the boys and flirtwith one.”Like any younger girl

wanting to fit in, sheaccepted the challenge.The older girls quickly

took Suzanne home andquickly dolled her up withtheir mothers’ make-upbefore sending the naïveLangford down amongst

the throng of Boy Scouts.When asked how this stuntturned out, Langford justsmiles and says she can’tremember.

Thoughts from the TopOne service the West

Point Pepperell Companyprovided for its workerswas a monthly magazine,The Westpointer, whichfeatured articles about fac-tory work activities andnews, arts and crafts forwomen at home, and onsome occasions outside ofwork activities such as theScouting program.On the 50th Anniversary

of Scouting in the Valleyarea, George H. Lanierwrote in his “Letter fromthe President,” that was fea-tured in every issue of themagazine, that, “scoutinghas demonstrated its abilityto help boys and at the sametime to add to over-all com-munity enrichment becauseof the adults who havecome under its influence.”Lanier recognized and

prided himself on hisunderstanding of the neces-sity of Scouting for hisemployees and their fami-lies. He bragged in his let-ter that 50 percent of hisown mill employees weredirectly involved in theScouting program as lead-ers, den mothers and volun-teers. Pictures of parents,almost all mill workers,helping boys tie knots, andchop firewood, and judgeflapjack cooking contestscover the pages of the mag-

azine.By providing the

Scouting program for themill workers and their fam-ilies it was a chance foreach of the “millages” togrow closer together andform a bond with each otherand their families, and thusstrengthening the mill fami-ly. It became somethingthat you just did. One of thereasons it was something

you did was because 87percent of the Scout troopswere sponsored by areachurches. The churcheswere the centers of thecommunities for the mostpart. You would be hard-pressed to find people whodid not attend church everyweek. Because of that, mostall the boys in church werealso involved in thatchurch’s respective Scouttroop.One of the lasting testa-

ments of the Company’sinvolvement in theScouting program are theScout meeting houses ineach village. Built andmaintained by theCompany themselves, eachvillage had its own Scouthouse in which the boyscould meet and do activi-ties. However, many ofthese buildings sit emptyonly as symbols of a oncethriving scouting program.In the 1980s the Scouting

numbers peaked near ataround 2,100 active Scouts.Since then, as the millsbegan closing slowly, thenumbers gradually began tofall.

Scouting Ahead toToday

Today, there are are onlythree Scout troops active inValley, cut down from atone time more than a dozen,in the newly named GeorgeH. Lanier District, which ispart of the now biggerChattahoochee ValleyCouncil.Jared Bertram is the new

district executive for thisdistrict and is trying to reju-venate the Scouting pro-gram“I love the ideas and

plans we have for Scoutinghere,” he says. “It’sabsolutely an honor tocome to a place that has thehistory of passions sostrong for the Scouting pro-gram,” he adds as he looksthrough boxes for photosand news articles inside his10-by-15 office space,which is actually an oldhouse. “Its history is hon-estly unlike any other pro-gram’s that I have seen.”Bertram hates that many

of the historic elements ofthe scouting program arebeing forgotten. Drivingfrom one of the old villagescout houses to the next inJared’s old Jeep Cherokee,he becomes more and morefrustrated as he realizes themissed opportunities byhaving these huts locked upand out of use.“We’ve got to get better

about realizing and usingall the wonderful resourceswe have at our disposalhere in our cities,” he says.“We have these wonderfulhuts, full of history, full ofsentimentality and they arein great shape. We need touse them. This is just onething though.”Peering through the dusty

and cobwebbed windows ofthe beautiful stoneLangdale Scout hut behindLangdale school, I see aplace brought back to lifewith the voices of boystraining for merit badgesand reciting the Scout’screed. Original fireplaceswith wooden carvings andframed pictures of Scoutsfrom long ago adorn its richbrown wooden mantle.Every year Bertram

spends time going from oneelementary school to anoth-er trying to urge boys tobecome interested in join-ing the Boy Scouts. He sayshe wants to recruit themearly so they can have timeto complete all their badgesand get the full experienceof Scouting.Bertram excites the

young boys with promisesof shooting air rifles, partic-ipating in archery contestsand camping. He gets themexcited with all the goodstuff, he says. He thensends them raving about theScouts home to their par-ents and has them returnlater that evening to signup.Currently, Bertam super-

vises 733 Cub Scouts andBoy Scouts. Those are greatand positive numbers andcan be directly attributed tothe recruiting efforts he andhis volunteers are doing.The Scouting numbers in

Valley may be struggling toclimb the big mountain, butthe legacy and tradition inthe area that is at the topnever left.

Leaving My Own MarkBertram drove me out to

Pine Mountain ScoutCamp. A place where gen-erations of Scouts had spenttime camping, fishing anddoing other activities eachSummer. Boys who wouldbecome soldiers, business-men and professionalsspent their years of youthlearning to become menhere.So as I stood there, lean-

ing against the railing of theCliff Glover Chapel out atthe Pine Mountain ScoutCamp and looking out overthe lower lake, I could feelthe energy and history thatfilled these grounds. Thelives that had moved on, butwould never truly leave thisplace they had called homeeach summer for a fewweeks they came alive forme at that moment.“You can tangibly feel

the history around youhere,” Bertram said as westood and simply listened tothe breeze. “It’s a beautifulthing to think about.”He was right.Up at the camp we found

many of these long depart-ed names and memoriesforever marked into theboards and logs of theirrespective mill village’scabins.“Joe was here ’59” sat

carved beside a door andbeside that hid anothercarving, smaller, that readsimply, “me too.”These marks were carved

by boys who long ago knewthat their actions could havemeant a heavy punishment.However, their names arenow part of the history andspirit of the camp.Bertram and other volun-

teers and Scouts are work-ing to make this camp whatit once was.

The 100-year anniver-sary of Scouting Oak Treethat has been planted in themiddle of the now filled inswimming pool, blue tilesstill reaching out of the dirtand grass.These are just more

pieces being added to thisgrand puzzle that new lead-ers like Bertram are work-ing to piece together to con-tinue the legacy of this cen-tury old tradition.With this story I was able

to add my own piece to thispuzzle. Coming from theoutside and being able towrap myself up in a historysewn from the threads andstrings of forgotten stories,pictures, records and mem-ories that these textile milltowns had to offer, sent meon my own Scouting expe-dition where I discoveredsomething worth sharingwith others.I myself broke the Boy

Scout motto when I firstcame to Valley. Nothingcould have prepared me forwhat I was going to experi-ence. I am better preparednow.And on my honor, I will

make sure the stories peo-ple want to tell are heard,and shared with the peopleeager to listen.

Boy Scouts show off at April 1952 “Springaree”

Photo illustration shows Langdale Meadow as it looked during the 1952 Boy Scout "Springaree" compared to what the area looks like in 2010 on right.

14 Valley Vision Spring 2010

Photo Illustration by Chris Walker and Andrew Sims

Courtesy of Cobb Memorial Archives.